


my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me

by tsunderestorm



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6743359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not often that they let Exorcists visit other branches, but for the two of them, they make an exception.</p><p>Alma visits, and Kanda falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metalkicker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalkicker/gifts).



> inspired by [this post](http://metalkicker.tumblr.com/post/135830816567/dgm-au-where-yu-manages-to-calm-alma-down-after-he).

Kanda is tired of waiting. It’s hard to get mail here as it is, and a storm blowing in and battering the coast with wind and rain has prevented anyone from leaving by conventional means for the last week. It’s been 11 days since the last letter (hardly any time at all, really - he knows this, rationally) but he can’t help but worry. Eleven days. 264 hours, 15,840 minutes, 950, 400 seconds.

Komui doesn’t ask why Kanda's there ten minutes after noon, barging through his office door like he owns the place and scanning the chief's messy desk until he finds the stack of letters bound by postal twine. It doesn't take him long to scan through them, flicking unimportant pieces back into a haphazard pile on the desk. Finally, he comes to the bottom of the stack - postmarked from an address in the USA, with his name on the front. He flips it over like a man starved, slides a trembling finger (when did he start shaking? stupid.) under the envelope’s flap and opening it. Small things tumble out – a stone, polished the desert winds; a tiny lizard-like creature fossilized on a piece of stone, the crushed petals of a bright pink cactus flower. He tucks them into his pocket reverently and diverts his attention to the letter. He reads it like a man starved, devouring the words on the lined paper with an intensity he rarely devotes to anything else.

 _Yuu,_ it reads, written in some sort of glittery pen he's never seen before. _They're going to let me come visit! I'm so excited, then I'll meet all of your friends and have friends on three continents!_ The “three” is underlined several times, indentations in the thick stationery. Kanda runs his finger along the backside of the paper to feel them, imagining the excited fervor with which Alma wrote them. It doesn’t hit him until he re-reads it for about the fifth time.

Alma is coming to visit.

Alma is coming, here, to the European branch. To visit him.

Incredulous, he looks up at Komui and the idiot chief is smiling, like he knows something Kanda doesn’t, like he knew this all along.

“No.” Komui nods and sets down his coffee mug, crosses the few short steps across the room to wrap his arms around Kanda in an uncomfortably tight hug. Irritated he shrugs him off and asks “Really? They're letting him visit? That must mean...”

Komui kisses Kanda's temple. “That means that he's doing much better. I spoke with Chief Epstein and we think that both of you more than deserve it.”

\--

He’s restless the day that Alma is supposed to arrive. They had told him Thursday, mid-morning; the ship would arrive and Alma would be brought to shore on a tiny boat, pull up the underground waterway and step onto slick stone. Then, Kanda thinks, he'll probably do something embarrassing, like want to hug him in front of

(Recently, though, he regrets every time he pushed away Alma's hugs; wishes for nothing more than another chance to embrace him.

Kanda knows he’ll have to show him around. Introduce him to everyone, tell him about every single thing because Alma is always full of questions. He tries to pretend to be mad about the thought, but mostly he’s just excited – there's an ache in his chest that he can't explain.

Daybreak passes. He's eaten breakfast, meditated for hours, trained with Mugen, and found a dozen other small tasks to do. Daybreak gives way to morning and he stands, staring out a window and watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Mid-morning gives way to afternoon, afternoon to evening. No ship on the horizon.

Nothing.

There are several different possibilities that run through his mind. The most likely: akuma. He imagines them swarming the ship, misshapen and virus-ridden. He wonders if Alma has ever seen an akuma, if he turned the raw Innocence that he used to slaughter his keepers into something useful. Also likely: a storm, a band of pirates, a malfunction in the ship’s engine. Vividly, he recalls the sight of Alma covered in blood (even if it wasn't his own, then) and his stomach churns. He’s not prone to worrying like this but it’s _Alma_.

Eventually, when Kanda is shivering from the chilled air blowing in off of the ocean, Komui makes him return to the castle. He turns away Jeryy's special soba dish, turns away everything and everyone. They promised, and they let him down again.

\--

Just as expected, Alma (as usual) embarrasses himself. Kanda barely has time to register the chirped “ _Yuu~!_ ” before Alma starts running, crossing the hall in a matter of seconds, boots pounding on polished checkered tile. Kanda stands just as Alma reaches him, just in time for Alma's leap in his arms to be perfectly calculated and welcomed rather than

Alma is popular, and Kanda is jealous. A small, angry part of him wants Alma all to himself, wants the first moments he spends at the European branch to be only

Almost like he can read his mind, Alma turns to him and winks. “Why don't you show me around,

–

He shows Alma his room first. There are a few plants near the window, a mat carefully laid out around the small table to catch falling leaves and petals and Alma seems entranced, drinking it all in. The rack for Mugen on the floor beside the low bed, tatami mats covering the floor, a tall, pale wooden wardrobe with his Exorcist’s uniform hanging inside of it beside some freshly pressed shirts and sweaters, street clothes. There are some neatly folded sweats and sleeveless tops on a shelf, and several pairs of boots on the bottom, all in varying states of worn out. Kanda is confident that they way he keeps his room is sufficient, but suddenly he feels boring under Alma’s gaze. Alma would have preferred clutter, he guesses; an abundance of things to look at to keep 

“I love your uniform, Yuu,” Alma laughs as he thumbs through the wardrobe, taking it out of the closet and holding it up to his own body. He’s still about the same size as Kanda (a tiny bit shorter, Kanda notices triumphantly) but his body is similar. “The North American uniforms aren’t as cool. Not as many buckles."

So he is an Exorcist, officially. He has a uniform. That means they’ve sent him out on missions, or at least they’re planning to. Kanda imagines what it would be like to fight the enemy with Alma; Innocence flashing sharp and hot, destroying akuma side by side.

“There aren’t many plants at my branch,” Alma continues with a smile as he rubs at a flower blossom with the pads of his finger. “It’s in the middle of a desert. Nothing grows except a cactus or two.”

Kanda is content to listen to him talk. There's a lump in his throat that's hard and hot, a feeling in chest like something's swelling to burst. At that moment, he doesn’t care about uniforms or plants or any of that shit, because Alma turns to look at him over his shoulder and the moonlight streaming through the window catches his bright black hair and makes him fucking _shine_.

\--

It's over too soon. The seventh day heralds the end of it, and Kanda is sullen. He knows Alma is delaying it and part of him likes that, but the other part knows that if Alma doesn't behave he'll never be allowed to visit again.

He's folding things into his suitcase in the room he'd been staying in (officially; of course – unofficially, he's been sleeping beside Kanda on his bed for the last five days) when he comes across an envelope tucked between two pairs of pants.

“Oh yeah,” he chirps, turning around and holding it out to Kanda, who has to uncross his arms to accept it. “I had this letter for you, but I figured I could give it to you in person.”

Kanda cocks an eyebrow at him, confused. Why didn't he just tell him what he wanted to say? Or is this an old letter?

 _Dear Yuu,_ it begins, the same as always. _I love of your friends here, especially Allen and Lenalee. Lavi is funny too. Your chef makes really good things with lots of mayonnaise for me and I like your uniforms better. I like Tiedoll and his pretty pictures.Your chief is really nice, too. Yesterday, he told me that he -_

Kanda sighs. This is painful – it's a goodbye. His eyes sting hot and he swears that he won't cry, not in front of Alma. “Alma, this is sweet, but - “

“Keep reading, silly,” Alma tells him, eyes alight, and Kanda does.

_he filled out all of the paperwork and starting today, I'm officially an Exorcist and member of the Black Order Europe branch!_

Kanda reads the last line over and over, burning the shape of the handwriting into his brain. “Alma?"

Alma smiles, illuminated by the stained glass window behind him and Kanda recalls the first time he ever saw his friend, his lover, his soulmate, illuminated by the light at the top of a containment chamber he'd crawled out of. The only thing that ever mattered. “Yuu.”

Kanda steps forward and hugs him. He puts a lot of feelings into the hug: disbelief, gratitude, _love._ When he pulls away, Alma pushes forward again and jumps into his arms and just like that, like he doesn't even care who could walk in and see, kisses him breathless, hands gripping Kanda’s face as their lips connect for what feels like forever.

Kanda still hates the Order. He always will. But he hates them less,now. They returned his Alma to him, and he knows that nothing will ever take him away again.

 


End file.
